


To sleep, perchance to dream

by whitchry9



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Blind Character, Dreams, Dreams and Nightmares, Dreamsharing, Friendship, Gen, Magic, dream projection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-08-16 19:07:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8114011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitchry9/pseuds/whitchry9
Summary: Of course Foggy is the one they send in to pull Matt from his weird dream world. He had the least training for that sort of thing, if you could be trained for that sort of thing.But apparently being his best friend makes him qualified, and he can't argue with that.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For my bingo square 'projected dreams' and also for this prompt: http://daredevilkink.dreamwidth.org/8423.html?thread=17218791#cmt17218791

It was far too early on a Sunday for Foggy to be awake, let alone dressed and walking through the lobby of New York's superhero headquarters. The fact that Captain America was leading him to the elevators made him question if he wasn't dreaming it all, but he figured even his own mind wasn't that cruel. He'd gotten a call that Matt was injured, and wasn't that just great, Matt's second time working with the Avengers and he'd already gotten injured enough that Foggy needed to be called.

 

They were in the elevator and rising quickly before Captain America spoke.

“I'm sorry we didn't call you immediately after, but he made it clear he didn't want us to figure out his identity or contact anyone, so we respected his wishes until it became apparent we just couldn't anymore,” Captain America explained. Foggy was going to freak out over that later when he was done freaking out about Matt being hurt.

Some sort of magical head injury, whatever, Foggy was so done with magic. Why couldn't he just have a normal head injury like a goddamn normal vigilante?

“But after what happened last night, and the fact that he still hasn't woken up, we couldn't wait anymore. Sorry about that.”

Foggy was torn between being angry that they didn't contact him sooner, and angry that they identified Matt at all.

 

“So what's wrong with him? You said some kind of head injury on the phone, with what, magic involved? What were you guys doing?”

Cap looked slightly ashamed. “We were helping out Doctor Strange, and something happened, no one is really sure, because no one witnessed it. As far as we can tell, he suffered a blow to the head, and that's all we thought it was until last night.”

Cap led Foggy out of the elevator and through hallways. “With Bruce's help, we were just treating it as a head injury. The CT scan showed minor swelling, no bleeds or breaks. Doctor Strange actually used to be a surgeon before he took up the whole magic thing, and he was more worried about the magic side of things than the actual head wound.”

They stopped in front of a door labelled medical wing, in both raised letters and braille, and Foggy let himself appreciate that for a second before he settled back into vaguely concealed panic.

“I'll let them explain it to you, since I didn't actually experience it,” Cap explained. “I wasn't here last night when it happened.”

“When what happened?”

Cap shrugged, and just led Foggy through the door into a mini ER. Expensive equipment and carts full of supplies lined the wall, and there were some sort of head scans displayed on the wall.

 

Tony Stark and Bruce Banner were both in the room, but Matt was nowhere to be seen.

“Where is he?” Foggy demanded.

“In there,” Tony said, pointing a thumb behind him to a closed door.

Foggy ignored him and swung open the door, expecting the worse.

 

Matt looked like he was sleeping. You know, if he slept with wires attached to his head and chest and an IV tube in his hand. There was a bruise peeking out from under his hair, but it didn't look awful. There was no blood anywhere.

Someone had taken his costume off and dressed him not in the typical hospital gown, but a pair of sweats. His chest was bare, and Foggy could easily see the scars from his position at the door.

 

He inched closer to Matt's side and grabbed the hand nearest him, checking to make sure he was warm enough.

 

“So what happened?” he demanded, looking to the doorway, where the various Avengers were hovering.

The two other men looked to Tony, who rolled his eyes, but stepped into the room, scanning the displays before addressing Foggy.

“It's some sort of shared dream experience. It's like he's projecting them to anyone within a defined area. We didn't really test it after the first night, when everyone who slept in the building experienced it, but as far as we can tell, it doesn't extend outside the building, which is good.”

And Foggy didn't even begin to understand that, but let it go, since that wasn't the issue.

“And how are you going to fix it?”

Another man appeared behind them and stepped forward. He was wearing a cape and had facial hair similar to Tony. “As far as we can tell, whoever is sharing the dream experience can help break him out of it, but none of us have had success so far. I'm relatively experienced in dream sharing, and I haven't been able to make any sense of it.”

“They're fucked up man,” Tony added. “Like, seriously.”

“The dream landscape is... concerning,” the man with the cape agreed. “At least part of it is due to the blindness and his own psyche. We were hoping that you would have more success, seeing as how you've known him for the longest.”

Foggy assumed this was Doctor Strange.

“You want me to go into Matt's dreams?” he asked.

They all nodded.

Foggy rolled his eyes. “Oh sure,” he muttered to himself. “No training, but let's just throw me into Matt's fucked up dream world, that's cool.”

“If it's any reassurance, we are fairly certain you won't be harmed,” Doctor Strange said helpfully.

Foggy glared at him. “No, that is not at all reassuring because before you said that I hadn't even worried about it. How can I be hurt in a dream?”

“Magic,” Tony sighed. He shuddered.

Well, at least Foggy wasn't alone in resenting every part of this.

“Do you know how much shit he's been through?” Foggy demanded. “Do you know what kind of horrors are inside his head? How much suffering this man must have had that I've never even heard about, because I've heard about a lot and he _hates_ sharing things. Do you have any idea what you want me to do?”

 

Tony's face darkened. “Oh yeah, I have an idea. Last night was... not good. And isn't that the understatement of the year. I mean, I've been through some shit and my dreams reflect that, and still, last night, sharing his dream world or whatever it was, I'm not sure I'll be able to sleep tonight. It's not just that the content of his mind is terrifying, because it is, there's no denying that, but also because it doesn't make sense. It's gotta be because of his blindness, because most of it is blackness, void, and what is there is looks like caricatures and grotesquely disproportionate. I don't mean to scare you, but I realize I am.” He sighed. “Look, you're his best friend, right?”

Foggy nodded.

“Then I think you're his only hope,” he said gently.

Foggy sighed. “Well shit.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Within an hour, Foggy found himself set up in a bed of his own, a similar set-up on his head and assorted wires coming off of him. Doctor Strange, and Foggy was having a hard time believing he was a real doctor while he was wearing the cape, had explained the reasons why, something about brain waves and vital signs, but Foggy hadn't really listened. Was the cape really necessary? Indoors?

Dammit the guy was saying something and Foggy was too busy thinking about the cape to listen.

 

“Um, can you repeat that?” Foggy asked, eyeing the needle in the supposed doctor's hands. Gloves indoors too, and not medical ones, but fancy ones that matched the cape.

“Do you consent to the sedative?”

“Why do I need one?”

The guy sighed, and Foggy got the feeling he had just explained this whole thing while Foggy was considering the cape. “The sedative will allow you to enter the shared dreamscape more easily and remain there for a longer period of time. Otherwise, you run the risk of being startled awake if something frightening happens.”

“What if I want to wake up?” Foggy asked.

“We'll be monitoring you closely, and if you show signs that you are in any danger, or if Matthew becomes conscious, we can reverse the effects of sedation.”

“Okay,” Foggy sighed. “If it's needed.”

He realized he was putting quite a lot of trust in the hands of these people who he'd literally just met, but they were superheroes, and it was for Matt.

As there was a stinging in his hand and a cold sensation rushing through his vein, he realized there wasn't much he wouldn't do for Matt.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Fire. Everything was fire and yet, Foggy wasn't burning. Why? How? There was so much just assaulting him, noises and scents and sensations that he didn't even know he could feel, and it was all just too much. What the hell was happening?

 

 _A world on fire,_ Matt's voice echoed in his head. Matt. There was something about Matt.

 

Foggy was in his head. Or his dreams... or something.

 

Foggy closed his eyes, hoping to step something, but the fire was still there, even with them closed.

He opened them again. Nothing changed.

Was this what it was like to be Matt?

He closed his eyes again and held his hands out in front of him. He could... _see_ them. Not really see, since his eyes were closed, but he knew they were there. He closed all his fingers but one.

“One finger,” he said. He opened his eyes again. Nothing changed.

 

So whatever it was didn't rely on vision. Which was cool. And kind of obliterated everything he'd thought about how Matt 'saw'. There was no vision involved at all. (He felt a bit like a dick for his assumptions, but it really wasn't the time.)

 

He waved his hand out in front of him and observed how the fire changed, streaks through the air. Were those the air currents Matt tried to tell him about? The temperature variations?

 

Matt. Right. Foggy had to try not to get distracted. He was here for Matt, Matt who had gotten some sort of magical head injury and was projecting his dreams to anyone in the building.

 

Foggy had to find him.

 

“Matt?” Foggy called out, taking a step forward. There was some sort of ground, and walls surrounding him. That was a good start.

 

The layout of the room was familiar, although Foggy couldn't quite place it. There was a bed in front of him... and one behind him? And desks. There were desks and dressers.

It was their dorm room. What did it mean that Foggy had appeared in their dorm room, the place they had first met? Was there any meaning behind it, or was it random?

 

Either way, Matt didn't respond, not that Foggy really expected him to. He wasn't here.

 

Foggy made his way to the door, still adjusting to how everything in Matt's head was organized. Were memories from the time he had sight still based on vision, or had they been converted afterwards?

 

He expected to find the residence hallway behind the door, but instead it was yet another room, the door to the dorm disappearing behind him. This room had a single bed and almost nothing else. A dresser. If Foggy had to describe it, he'd definitely use the word spartan. He'd bet the walls were white too, if colour was a part of Matt's memory.

The final piece of the puzzle clicked when Foggy deciphered the shape hanging above the bed- a cross. This must have been the room Matt had in the orphanage. Why would Foggy end up here, in a place that didn't have any relation to him?

Maybe he was just trying to make sense of something that literally did not make any sense at all. That was probably a better explanation.

 

Around him, the room morphed, and in front of him stood another door. There was a sign next to the door. No text, of course, because that would be kind of ridiculous for a blind man to have a sign with text in his own mind, but there was braille.

 

Foggy only knew the basic _basics_ of braille, and that included about 8 letters. The first letter on the sign was L for sure, and he was pretty sure the second one was O, but was about all he knew of the first word. The second word was shorter, and first letter was a W, then an A, then... he was pretty sure that was an R. Oh no, there was an E in the first word. He at least knew all of the letters from Matthew. LO--E- WAR-. Still didn't help. But it didn't say keep out, so there was that.

Foggy pushed open the door into a hallway with doors on either side. The doors didn't have windows.

 

On closer examination, each of the doors had braille on them. Labels perhaps, of what was inside?

The first door he gave up on, recognizing the second letter as T, but none of the others. The second door he actually knew most of the letters. There was an E, then L, then another E, something he didn't recognize, a T, an R, an A...

Elektra? Why would the girl Matt dated in college be locked up in his mind?

He didn't bother to try the door. From what he knew about Elektra, he didn't like her, even though they'd barely met. It was because of her that Matt almost failed out of second year. He was horribly withdrawn for weeks afterwards. Whatever reason Matt had his memories of her locked up, Foggy didn't want to face. He left the door alone and moved further down the hall. If this was where Matt kept things locked up, Foggy feared what was in the rest of the rooms. Instead of stopping to decipher more braille, he hurried to the door at the far end and prayed it would let him out.

It did.

 

He was in another room, nothing special. Everything in the room was blurry and the same impressionistic style that the rest of Matt's mind had been, except for one thing. The framed portrait on the wall.

It was Matt's dad, Foggy recognized him from the single photograph that Matt had. He was framed by pale sky and clouds, and he didn't look happy, more panicked. As Foggy examined the image, the edges began to speck and blur and disappear completely, vanishing into the same world on fire that everything else was. Was that the last image Matt had seen? Did he play it over and over in his mind, to the point where each detail had become crystallized? Was that what Foggy had just witnessed, the loss of his best friend's sight?

Maybe it was better if he didn't know.

 

The room morphed into an entire scene, complete with other people. Foggy couldn't tell who they were from their form, because he wasn't Matt, but he could tell once the one in the middle began speaking.

 

Fisk.

 

He was larger than Foggy remembered, perhaps memory and fear distorting him in Matt's memories. Or was this a nightmare?

The events played out as he watched, ignoring him like he wasn't even there, and that made him lean more towards memory than nightmare. If it was a nightmare, Foggy felt like things would involve him, attempt to kill him, that sort of thing.

 

He didn't realize it, but Matt, standing off to the side, was already bleeding. It was hard to tell, with the way Matt saw things, but the way he held himself was unmistakable, the scent thick in the air.

 

There was something burning behind him, the heat glowing brightly, or whatever. Was this the ninja Matt had mentioned, the one who'd ripped him up, cut him open. And hadn't Fisk used Matt to kill him instead of taking him out himself? He really was a Kingpin of crime, if he'd planned all that. Maybe he'd planned for them both to take each other out.

 

In front of Matt, Fisk was still droning on, and the rage in Matty was something tangible that Foggy could feel from across the room.

Foggy had to listen as Fisk told him how he set up Elena's death to bait him there,

 

“I'm gonna to kill you,” Matt swore, gasping and out of breath, obviously in pain and still bleeding.

“Matt don't,” Foggy pleaded, but it was a memory, and there was nothing he could do.

“Take your shot,” Fisk dared him, and that was all Matt needed.

 

Foggy knew how this fight ended, remembered how Matt looked after crawling home and collapsing on the floor of his apartment. He didn't want to see how it played out.

But of course, closing his eyes didn't change anything. He still had to witness Matt, already bleeding and broken, get the shit kicked out of him before taking a swan dive through a glass window and into the river.

 

He wanted to be sick, but didn't have the time, because that memory morphed into another.

 

He was standing in Matt's apartment, watching as he stumbled in. He could hear himself, or the memory of himself, pounding on the door, drunk and yelling about Elena and how they were going to make them pay.

Then Matt stumbled and made a noise, and dream him burst through the roof access, brandished Matt's cane like a weapon, and once the man in black collapsed on the ground in front of him, poked him with it. He already lived through it once, but somehow it was worse this time, not blurred through the haze of alcohol and darkness, but instead lit up bright with pain and blood and the knowledge of things that were to come.

 

That memory faded too, and Foggy dreaded what was to come, but things stayed dark for a moment, actually dark, no world on fire, and he wondered if that was it, if he was going to be lost in Matt's mind forever, until things once again began to change.

 

 

Things morphed from impressionistic painting, made of broad sweeps of colour, to Picasso-esque caricatures. Things gained form and colour, but the shape became altered. Were these memories from before, when Matt still had his sight, but distorted by the years?

 

That theory was thrown out as soon as Foggy realized what he was looking at.

 

It was a room full of him.

 

Amalgamations of scents and tastes and air currents and temperature and that one time Matt was drunk and felt his face, all of those things combined to make Foggy- or at least what Matt thought Foggy looked like. And he didn't seem to be sure, because there wasn't just one, there were multiple. Foggy from college when he used to have a beard and really long hair. Foggy from that one time Marci convinced him to get a hair cut and it went horribly. Foggy with different hair colours, Foggy with freckles, Foggy with different eye colours, skin tones, birthmarks and tans. But they were all undeniably him.

 

Matt devoted an entire room in his mind to him. And not just to him, but to what he looked like. Was this something Matt actively thought about, or was it something that only came out in his dreams? Matt had told him once that he'd dreamed Foggy looked like someone he knew as a child. Matt acknowledged that based on what he did know, Foggy didn't even look like him, but it was what his mind used to make sense of dreaming in images he no longer had.

 

Foggy wondered what the inside of his own head looked like. If Matt would be just as lost as he was right now.

 

Before he could even think about it, he found himself walking into another room as that one dissolved around him.

 

He was in their office, the shared space of Nelson, Murdock, and Page. Her name wasn't on the door, but it was as much her space as it was theirs. The colours were wrong, and details were off, but Foggy couldn't fault Matt for those things. He'd taken what he did know and extrapolated from there. It was pretty good, all things considered. He'd managed to get the weird off white colour of the printer just right. Foggy's chair was more of a grey shade than the blue Matt had given to it, but most of the other things, including the view out his window, was-

There was something under his desk.

No, scratch that, _someone._ Someone was under his desk. And all the people he'd met so far, at least the ones that weren't memories, had been dangerous enough that Matt had locked them up. What was Foggy about to face?

 

He bent over to get a better view, and what he found surprised him.

Matt, his best friend, looked about ten years old and was hiding under Foggy's desk.

 

When Foggy considered it, he was probably nine years old. This was the last image Matt had of himself, nine years old, before he was blinded. He probably didn't know what he looked like anymore, just grew into a body that he hoped still resembled what it used to. Was this how Matt always saw himself, or was it because of what had happened to lock him inside his own mind that he'd regressed to this age?

 

“Hey buddy,” Foggy said, kneeling down, careful not to get too close.

“Foggy?” he whispered.

Foggy nodded.

“You don't look how I imagined you,” small Matt whispered.

Foggy smiled. “I saw them, the other mes. I think you did pretty well considering.”

Matt reached a small hand out to touch Foggy's cheek. He traced it over his nose, his forehead, down to his lips.

“You feel like I remember,” he said. “Your hair...”

“A bit different from the last time you felt it up, huh?”

Foggy had much more hair in college, a ridiculous amount of hair if he was being honest about it.

Matt smiled. “Yeah. I like the colour though. I don't think I could have ever imagined it as well as this.”

Foggy smiled right back.

 

“So. Hiding under my desk, huh?”

Matt nodded. “I knew I'd be safe here.”

Foggy had to agree. “Buddy, your head is a very scary place.”

Matt nodded. “I know.”

“You ready to go home?”

“I don't think I know how.” he whispered.

“I think we could figure it out together, how about that?” Foggy suggested.

Matt nodded and took Foggy's outstretched hand to climb out from under the desk. Jesus, he was tiny, probably even for a nine year old, Foggy didn't know.

 

“Do you remember what happened?” he asked little Matt. His eyes darted around the room. He looked even younger without glasses on, just like his adult self did.

“I think... Avengers? And Doctor Strange? I don't remember exactly what happened though,” he said, frowning. “Do you know?”

“They didn't really give me the whole story,” Foggy admitted. “Just told me you needed me, and that was enough.”

There was something hopeful and heartbreaking on Matt's face. “You came for me?”

“Of course I did. We're Maverick and Goose, remember?” He wasn't sure if a nine year old Matt would recognize the reference, but he seemed to have his adult self's memories, so there was no telling.

Matt beamed. “Yeah.”

“Good. Now, let's get out of here, okay?”

Matt nodded.

Foggy crouched down. “And Matty, just in case we don't remember... I don't know, any of this, cause it is all a dream I think, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for not listening when you tried to explain your whole world on fire thing. I get it now. I really do. And I'm sorry for not listening or trying to understand when you explained before, cause I get it now.”

“It's okay Foggy,” Matt said, and he wasn't nine years old anymore, he was hovering above Foggy, who was still crouching down to talk to the kid version.

Foggy scoffed and straightened up. “Don't suppose you need this either,” he said, trying to pull his hand back from where it was still clasping Matt's.

“No,” Matt said quickly. “It's... it's okay.”

Foggy rolled his eyes. “You're a dork. But whatever. That's a talk we can have another time. Let's get out of here. I think if we leave the office...”

He looked around, but they were no longer standing next to his desk. They were no longer in their office at all. The world shimmered for a second and flickered back to the impressionistic painting, the world on fire that was Matt's world constantly. It was almost a relief for Foggy, no longer having the cognitive dissonance of the world not quite matching up to what it was supposed to be.

“Oh,” Foggy said.

“It's okay,” Matt assured him. “I think I can do this part on my own.”

He closed his eyes, and Foggy felt stupid enough standing there with his open that he closed his as well.

 

Nothing seemed to change, and he opened his mouth to tell Matt that, but he found it was impossible.

“Ungh,” he grunted.

 

“And it lives!” someone cheered, which Foggy found rude. The world was no longer on fire, but instead was just darkness, which, he reflected, was probably because his eyes were closed.

He pried them open to find Tony Stark hovering over him, which was not a sight he ever wanted to wake up to again, ever.

Ever.

 

Doctor Strange was hovering behind him, looking pleased with himself, and Foggy didn't like that at all.

“What happened?” he asked, once he convinced his tongue it could still form words.

“You're all good,” Tony told him, gesturing to his other side. Once Foggy managed to loll his head over, he found Matt, their outstretched hands still touching.

Someone must have pushed the beds close enough to allow them to touch, but considering he was sedated... Foggy didn't want to know how that happened. But he let it continue.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly have no excuse for why this took so long, because it was all written and done.  
> Shrug.  
> Anyway, stay tuned for more DD bingo fics.

They were both given a relatively clean bill of health later that day. It turned out that Foggy had only been asleep an hour or so, but it seemed like ages longer. He couldn't imagine what it had been like for Matt, trapped in his own mind. Matt didn't offer, and Foggy didn't ask.

And of course, Matt's bill of health was only relative because he still did have a head injury, just not the magic portion.

 

Foggy could really bring himself to listen to Doctor Strange because the dude was still wearing a cape. That was something Foggy probably would never understand. Hadn't the man seen the Incredibles?

“No capes darling,” he muttered under his breath, and Matt burst out laughing.

Doctor Strange only raised an eyebrow, no super hearing for him apparently.

Matt couldn't seem to calm down, the lack of sleep catching up with him despite having slept for like an entire day. Eventually, the Avengers just cleared them and Foggy took him home.

One of Tony's cars dropped them off a few blocks from home, because Matt was still a paranoid bastard and didn't want them to know where he lived, even though that sort of thing could be discovered in less than two seconds with a decent internet connection, but Foggy let him have it.

 

“Are we going to talk about what happened?” Foggy asked. They were still a block out, but close enough that Matt could ignore him for the rest of the walk and it wouldn't be impossible.

“I don't know what you witnessed Foggy,” Matt said, which was more than Foggy expected him to admit. “I don't know if you really want to talk about it if it means going through everything you experienced and wanting me to explain it or decipher it for you. I'm not even sure I can.”

“Fair,” Foggy nodded. “But I don't want it to be a secret that I know these things about you now. I feel like I pried into your subconscious and you didn't get any say in it.”

Matt stopped walking. “Foggy, you came to get me. I can't be angry about any part of that. Am I angry it happened? Yes. But I wouldn't change what you saw, because it meant I got to come back out here with you. I wouldn't have been able to do that on my own. I'm not above admitting that.”

Foggy didn't know what to say.

He just nodded instead.

Matt nodded back and continued walking.

 

“Just out of curiosity, did the ninja who sliced you up get burnt to death?”

Matt's expression twisted. “Yes. Is that... is that something you saw?”

“Bits of it,” he admitted. “And I meant what I said, you know, near the end. I'm sorry for not understanding sooner.”

Matt, to his credit, didn't pretend to misunderstand.

“I couldn't have expected you to. I can barely find the words to explain it, so how can I expect someone else to know what I experience?”

 

“You know, I don't think that guy's a real doctor,” Foggy said thoughtfully. “I mean, just based on the cape alone.”

Matt burst out laughing. “No capes!” he said in a perfect imitation of Edna Mode.

“I never look back darling. It distracts from the now.”

“And call me when you get back, darling. I enjoy our visits.”

“We should watch that. Do you have a copy?”

“Do I have a copy,” Matt scoffed.

Foggy leveled a pointed look at him.

“...yes.”

“Thought so. And since you need concussion supervision, I will gladly volunteer to watch it with you.”

They reached the door to Matt's building and Foggy held it open for him.

“After you,” he said, making a slight bow.

“Thank you. You know, I wonder what would happen if anyone tried to sue the Avengers for rescuing them.”

“God, I hope not. I'm not sure the world could handle the fallout if something like that happened in the real world,” Foggy huffed. “But let's talk about the more pressing matter, like why they never made a sequel. I mean, what's up with that?”

Matt launched into an extended explanation of why a sequel would ruin the brilliance of the first film that lasted all the way into the opening scenes, when Foggy finally shushed him.

 

Matt fell asleep even before Bob beat up his boss, and Foggy woke him around the part where Mr Incredible pretended to be dead for a check that his brains were all still in place.

Afterwards, Matt leaned on him, perhaps not entirely unconsciously, and Foggy let him.

 

After all, he knew firsthand the sort of place Matt's dreams could be, and if leaning on Foggy made them better, he certainly wasn't going to deprive Matt of that small bit of relief.

It was the least he could do.

 


End file.
